


The Executioner is my Friend

by alphvjensen



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Post-Season/Series 10 Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 15:12:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12061572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alphvjensen/pseuds/alphvjensen
Summary: “There was no world without death, no world without someone to collect the fallen souls waiting to pass over.”





	The Executioner is my Friend

**Author's Note:**

> Written for wincestwritingchallenge for the month of August. The theme was songs and my prompt was "Don't Fear the Reaper" by Blue Oyster Cult.

There was nothing spectacular about killing Death. Mountains didn’t move. Oceans didn’t spill over into cities. Simply Death crumpled to dust and laid there in that old restaurant only to be swept away by the wind.

_ From ashes to ashes and dust to dust. _

They stared at each other for a while, almost too scared to move, too scared to breathe. As if the simple action of living would bring Death back and take Dean away like he was supposed to do.

However, nothing happened.

Finally when it was too overwhelming to even stand, like the air around him was too heavy, Dean took a small step forward and then fell to his knees, grabbing his brother’s face in between his calloused hands. He pulled Sam into his chest and just held him.

Sam was still crying, the tears soaking into the front of Dean’s shirt as Sam grabbed the shirt that Dean was wearing with both hands, desperate to touch, to feel.

Dean clung onto his brother, wondering how he could have ever thought that he could actually kill him. He would let the world burn to smoke and ruin before he ever killed his brother and yet, he almost did. Now the thought of driving that blade through his brother made him sick. His whole life he had been watching out for his little brother, protecting him since that fire.

And Sam was just going to let him do it and that probably hurt Dean more. That Sam would just get down on his knees and allow Dean to do this to him.

The willing sacrifice of a little brother.

“I’m so sorry.” Dean muttered into Sam’s hair, petting through it. “I couldn’t… I don’t know what I was doing.” That was a lie and they both knew it. Dean knew what he was doing and why he was doing it. However, it was better not to admit it. Better to live under the illusion that he didn’t know what he was about to do.

Sam wasn’t able to say anything, to do anything other than to just hold onto his brother and reveal in the fact that they were both still there, alive and breathing. The heart that was beating underneath his closed fists were still going to be there even if he pulled away.

They stayed like that for a while, just waiting for something to happen. I mean, something was bound to happen. You can’t just kill Death and expect to walk away like nothing had happened. Surely there would be someone, something that would punish Dean for the unholy deed that he did.

And the thing was, Sam was fully prepared to fight, beg, scream, kick and plead. Do whatever he had to do to keep Dean by his side. And if he couldn’t save Dean, then he would go down with him.

And yet, nothing happened.

They pulled away after minutes, hours and Dean wiped away the tears that still coated Sam’s cheeks.

Sam wouldn’t let go of Dean while they drove back to the Bunker. He kept his hand clasped in Dean’s and when Dean had to use both hands to drive, Sam kept a hand on his thigh. Dean made some comment about that he wasn’t going to disappear if Sam stopped touching him but the comment died on his tongue. He almost had. After everything that they had been through and he was almost torn apart by his own hand. Everything was still so raw, to exposed and vulnerable to just brush off. 

They showered together simply for the fact that they could. Sam kept his body pressed up flush against Dean’s back, gently digging the knots out of his muscles. Dean just stood there and gave Sam full permission to do whatever he wanted to do. He gave himself over to his brother, to let him touch and feel even despite the fact that all Dean wanted to do was lay praise to Sam’s body, to worship and apologize for what almost happened. Except Sam wouldn't let him do that so Dean just did what his brother wanted. It was the very least he could do. 

When they finally got out of the shower Sam asked Dean if he wanted anything to eat but Dean shook his head, grabbing Sam’s hand and walked to the bedroom. All he wanted was Sam and for Sam to stop taking care of him like this. He didn't deserve it.

They didn't leave their bed that day, tangled in the sheets, wrapped up in each other. And they didn't leave the bed the next either except for pure necessity.

Sam clung to Dean still, as if he were afraid that something was going to snatch Dean away the moment he let go.

Slowly the days of worry turned into weeks of nothing bed happening and they slowly fell back into a routine, one where they were closer than ever, never far from one another.

There came a point that they stopped worrying about the ground opening up and swallowing Dean whole. He stopped looking over his shoulder every few seconds. His heart stopped pounding through his chest every time thunder shook the sky. 

The day that Dean killed Death became nothing more than another day that they fucked some things up and now it was in the past. Just a stupid mistake to write off to write off and laugh about some other time. 

However that never seemed to last. The past always seemed to catch up to them no matter how fast they ran or pretended that nothing happened. 

Dean didn't sleep well anymore, not that he slept well in the first place; not with the Mark, not with everything else that was going on. Sam on the other hand, seemed to sleep more than ever now, like the past few years of just living through all the shit that he had to live through made him perpetually tired.

Sam turned in early, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand before he pressed a quick kiss to the top of Dean’s head. 

They had stopped taking so many hunts lately and it was amazing and a little jarring at how quickly they fell into domestic bliss. Everything was soft touches and lazy kisses. None of the urgency that they once had when they were hunting was left in their aging bodies. 

There was the steady hum from the generator somewhere deep within the walls of the Bunker and Dean just finished his second beer, working on the third when the atmosphere of the Bunker seemed to shift. Everything in the room darkened like he was looking through a thin film and there was the smell of burning ozone lingering in the air.

Dean finished the sip of beer before he turned around in his seat and faced the Reaper that was standing there, looking at him expectantly. Dean stared back.

It wasn't surprising that there was a Reaper there. Honestly, it was a long time coming. Something that Dean expected to happen a long time before now.

All those hours, all those days spent pretending that nothing was going to happen was all spent on borrowed time. Sooner or later someone was going to come for him and ask him to pay his dues. 

There was no world without death, no world without someone to collect the fallen souls waiting to pass over. 

It was almost cliche seeing the guy standing there with hooded eyes, dressed in black with a scythe in his hands. But then again, those cliches had to come from somewhere. The two of them stared at each other, an everlasting game of seeing who would blink first before the Reaper bowed his head and Dean finally spoke. 

“Can I say goodbye to my brother?” He asked, his voice barely wavering at the end at the thought of not being able to tell his brother where he was going. “You know, before you do… do that.” He pointed towards the scythe.

“You’ve got nothing but time, Dean. This job is yours from now until the world ends and even beyond.” The Reaper replied.

Dean nodded once, turning to take one last sip of his beer, wishing it was something stronger before he walked out of the library. He didn’t start running until he was out of sight of the Reaper, sudden desperation to see his brother controlling everything in him. He wanted to blame someone, make something else the scapegoat so he wouldn’t have to do this but it was time. He had been running and hiding long enough. It was time to take the job that he had thrust upon himself.

Sam was curled underneath the blankets, chest steadily rising and falling as he slept. Dean stood in the doorway, swallowing around the lump in his throat. It was almost physically painful for Dean to wake his brother. To pull him from his peaceful slumber to deliver something as agonizing as what Dean was about to say.

He watched Sam for a moment, taking in just how calm he looked and gave Sam just a few more moments of undisturbed peace.

Quietly he shut the door behind him, letting the darkness take him over as he walked to the bed, reaching over to turn on the bedside lamp. Sam stirred, just the tiniest bit at the sudden light but he didn’t wake all the way. He just snuggled down deeper into the heat and the safety of his blankets, a small sigh leaving his lips.

Dean cupped the side of Sam’s face, running his thumb along his cheekbone as he gently called out Sam’s name.

Sam woke slowly and smiled when he saw Dean hovering over him.

“Are you finally coming to bed?” Sam asked, almost teasing as he smiled up at his brother.

Except Dean didn’t answer and the smile that was on Sam’s face all but disappeared. He sat up, grabbing a hold of Dean, knowing but desperately wishing that he didn’t know why Dean was here, touching him like that. Not speaking like that.

“No.” Sam whispered. “No. Not now. I won’t let them take you.”

Dean smiled bitterly because he knew that Sam would do everything in his power to keep Dean there with them. “You can’t do that, Sam. You’ve gotta let me go.”

“But why now?” He was still clutching onto Dean. “Why did they wait until now?”

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t know why they waited so long but they did.” He wrapped his hand around Sam’s hand and forced him to let go. Sam fought him for a second, not able to just give up before he collapsed back down onto the bed, completely defeated. “You gotta promise me though, Sam, that you won’t do anything stupid to bring me back. You just gotta let me go and move on with your life.”

“Move on with my life?” Sam scoffed, bitter irony lacing his voice. “You know I can’t do that, Dean.”

Dean knew. “You hafta promise me, Sam. Just… please, just let me go.”

Sam didn’t say anything to that. He clenched his jaw shut, refusing to let the tears that wanted to fall, fall down his face. Then he grabbed Dean and pulled him down for a long, desperate kiss. “I won’t stop trying.” He muttered into Dean’s mouth. “I won’t.”

Dean pulled away, breaking away from his brother, his lifeline and turned towards the door so Sam couldn’t see the tears in his eyes.

“I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> I may or may not be thinking about making this into something longer. Like Dean as Death and all the things that he has to do and deal with. I don't know. Maybe.
> 
> Thoughts, comments and opinions give me life, y'all. Thanks for reading!!


End file.
